Daughter of Kellindil
by Cardea Starfyre
Summary: This is the story of the daughter of the elven archer Kellindil, as she and her friends attempt to set things right in the Silver Marches. (Featuring appearances by: Drizzt, Guenhwyvar, Cattie-Brie, Regis, Bruenor, Wulfgar, Alustriel, and others)
1. Loff’ta Nos’tangi

DISCLAIMER:

It is the desire of the author of this work of fiction that it be known that she does not hold any copyright over any of the Forgotten Realms characters or places included in her work (i.e. Drizzt Do'Urden, Guenhwyvar, Cattie-brie, Regis, Dove Falconhand, Kellindil, Lady Alustriel of Silverymoon, Harkle and the rest of the Harpells, Bruenor Battlehammer, Wulfgar, Roddy McGristle, Ellifain, the organization of Bregan D'aerthe, and the cities of Silverymoon, Luskan, Calimport, Waterdeep, Balder's Gate, Mithril Hall, Menzoberranzan and Icewind Dale, and the associated weapons and possessions) although she wishes she did. 

There are several characters, places and weapons, however that only have come to life from her ideas they are as follows: Thalion Ellesar, Ornlu the astral wolf, the Fang-Cleaver _(Caragrist)_, The Lost Grove and Waterfall, Fletcher Ravenmane, Hawthorne Pickett, D'Aron d'lil D'Issan, Barachiel Elentari, Hélène Volhard, Alkar Hammerhand, and Gaya Banazir. (Granted some of these haven't shown up yet, but…)

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_Loff'ta__ Nos'tangi _(Happy Birthday in Drow)

The sunlight filtered through the trees in the forest, shading the spot where Thalion lay. Her dark hair reflected the sunlight as she ran her hand through it. This was her special place, in the edge of Silverwood, nearly to the Evermoors, just to the southwest of Silverymoon. She came here everyday that she could spare, which was becoming a rare occurrence. She opened her emerald eyes and rolled over. She could see her horses grazing down near the stream that ran to meet the River Rauvin. She sighed. _Such is the fate of the first god-child of Lady Alustriel_, she thought. _I had better be getting back, or she will be worried. After all, tomorrow is my birthday._ Thalion smiled. It wasn't everyday that an elf turned twenty-five. She knew that they would be having some sweet confection that the Harpells had promised they would be bringing. And presents! There would be presents! 

She stood quickly and brushed off the grass from her breeches, pushed her hair behind her pointed ears, and whistled. "Thoron! Lach! Quessiel! Come on let's go home!" The three horses threw up their heads and whinnied as they trotted over to her. Thalion picked up her gear and saddled up Quessiel. The small grey mare's feet shifted with excitement, and she tossed her head. Thalion called Thoron over and loaded the heavier of the two packs on him. She had spent the majority of the morning gathering various herbs and spices to be used in the kitchens and in some of the wizard's and cleric's spells. The sandy brown stallion stretched his head back and pulled a mouthful of mint leaves out of the pack. "Hey! Don't eat too much of that!" Thalion cried, "It will make you have an upset stomach!" Thoron cocked his head to the side and promptly spit out the glob of half-chewed mint. He shook his head and sneezed. Now all she had to do was load the smaller pack on Lach. She knew this would prove to be a chore. 

The chestnut gelding was currently trotting circles around the other two horses. Thalion shook her head and sighed. "Lach, come here boy," she called softly. The gelding stopped and slowly approached her. She reached into the bag and pulled out a small cube of sugar. She laid it in the flat of her palm and laughed as Lach's whiskers tickled her hand as he lipped it up. "That's a good boy!" she told the gelding as she slipped his pack back on him and tightened the girth strap. She turned and climbed into Quessiel's saddle. She checked her bag and made certain that the three kittens it contained were still sleeping. She strung her bow and adjusted her quiver so that it was within easy reach. After all of her gear was mentally checked, she turned back to the shady tree where she had been napping. "Come on now Hwesta, we need to go home." 

High in the branches a shadow shifted and moved as the mother cat climbed to the ground. She yawned and stretched her dark striped body in the grass, and leaped onto Quessiel's saddle in front of Thalion. The elven maiden absentmindedly stroked her cat, as she gently kneed Quessiel in the direction of Silverymoon. 

She ate in the saddle, as they passed through Silverwood, and on toward Silverymoon. To her right she found the Nether Mountains as she followed the Rauvin River north. Thalion glanced over her left shoulder back to glimpse Thoron and Lach easily keeping pace with the fleet footed Quessiel. Lach was running easily, with his neck slightly arched and his tail flying behind him like a banner. Thalion smiled at the young gelding's antics. He ran next to Thoron and began bucking and twisting. The older stallion easily sidestepped the wild gelding and threw his head high to neigh. Lach quickly picked up the pace, and Thoron matched him easily. Thalion laughed as both horses raced past Quessiel in a dead heat. She guessed that this match would be a close one. Thoron had a longer stride, but Lach was younger. Thalion tightened her grip on Quessiel's reins. "Noro lim, Quessiel! Noro lim!" Those were the words that the small grey mare wanted to hear. 

Thalion crouched low in the saddle as the diminutive mare gathered her muscles under them, then exploded. They easily caught up to the other two and ran on ahead of them. Thalion allowed the horses to run on for a few moments, until she could see the twisted spires in the distance. She called for them to slow. Thoron and Quessiel did so obediently, but Lach ran on for a few paces until he realized that the others had stopped. Thalion shook her head and laughed at the silly gelding. She dismounted and checked to make certain that the packs were still secure on the horses and climbed back into the saddle. After checking on the kittens in her pack, something caught her eye. She turned Quessiel halfway around and blinked wide at what she saw. 

The silver creatures stood at the edge of the woods. They resembled horses; except they had cloven hooves and a single spiral horn grew from their foreheads. _Unicorns!_ Thalion found it hard to breathe. There was nothing that was as beautiful as a unicorn in all of the Realms. Yet Thalion did not see just one unicorn in front of her, she saw two! She had discovered a mare and her foal. "By Mielikki," she breathed. The unicorns watched her intently. Thalion was afraid to move; she didn't want to scare them away. She nearly screamed when Lach whinnied and trotted toward the beautiful creatures. _The horses can see them too! I'm not seeing things!_ Thalion sat quietly on Quessiel to see what Lach and the unicorns would do. The chestnut gelding stopped a few paces from the pair and whinnied again. This time, he received an answer. 

The foal whinnied back and trotted out to meet him. Thalion smiled broadly. Until the end of her days, she was hard pressed to find a more adorable image than that of her silly gelding nose to nose with a unicorn foal. She gently called Lach back to her side. She wheeled Quessiel around and gently kneed the mare forward. She turned to look over her shoulder, and the silver pair had disappeared. Thalion smiled. 

They entered Silverymoon a few moments later, crossed the Moonbridge and smiled at the guards. They nodded and waved back at her in response. "We wish you a happy birthday for tomorrow, in case we don't get to see you, Lady Thalion!" one of the guards shouted to her. "Thank you Eradan," she called back over her shoulder, "although I do hope that I see you tomorrow!" The burly man always seemed to be on duty when Thalion returned from one of her treks to Silverwood, and she had become rather attached to the proud guard. It had been this sandy-haired man that had given Thalion the small grey striped kitten that he had found afloat in the Rauvin near the entrance to Silverymoon. "How fares Hwesta?" Eradan called after her. She waved back as she told him, "The kittens grow more each day, and she is the most caring mother I have ever seen." Although he was quite a distance away, Thalion could see he was beaming. 

Thalion and her horses entered the "Gem of the North" and headed up the main avenue and continued in the direction of the High Palace. They passed many merchants along the avenue, and as the crossed through the Market Thalion stopped to talk with several. They continued on their way and turned down the wide alley that lead to Lady Alustriel's stables near the rear of the High Palace, behind the Silver Throne. Lach and Thoron tossed their heads and whinnied at the other horses that were in the stable. Several replies welcomed the troupe home. Thoron entered his stall and stood patiently. Thalion dismounted from Quessiel as Hwesta lithely hopped to the ground and disappeared into the hay to search for mice. She laid the kittens on a bed of hay and removed the bridle and saddle. She rubbed the mare down, and went to Thoron and eased his pack off his back. After she had rubbed the older stallion down, she removed Lach's pack and rubbed the gelding down. She fed and watered her horses and set to work on cleaning her tack. She polished the saddle, with its many twisting wines embroidered into the leather. It along with its matching bridle and saddle pad had been one of her birthday presents from her god-mother last year. Lach had been another. 

Thalion smiled as she thought back to last year's celebration. Her god-mother had held a private party and surprised her with the spindly legged red colt. She had been so overjoyed, that she spent the night in the stable with him. Her grin grew as she thought of the events that had unfolded this afternoon. Her bumbling silly gelding had been nose to nose with a unicorn foal! She was so proud of him. She couldn't wait to tell her god-mother what had happened. She gathered her gear and scooped up the kittens that were wrestling in the sweet smelling hay and headed toward the kitchens to get something to eat. She walked slowly out of the stable and for the first time noticed that there were several other horses in the stalls that did not belong to Lady Alustriel. 

Some of them she recognized immediately as those belonging to the Harpells, the wizard family that lived in Longsaddle. There was a well groomed black stallion, one shaggy grey pony, and a small brown mare stabled next to Lach that she knew she had seen before, but she couldn't quite place them. She recognized Dove Falconhand's grey stallion, and the other horses that belonged to her adventuring party. There were also several finely boned horses that Thalion placed as elvish mounts from Moonwood. Her relatives had arrived! She hadn't seen them very often since her father's murder and even rarely after her mother's passing. 

Thalion's father had been an elvish archer of great renown. He had accompanied Lady Alustriel's sister, Dove Falconhand, on many adventures. Kellindil had seen barely sixty years before he was slain by Roddy McGristle, a human bounty hunter that was on the trail of the renegade drow elf, Drizzt Do'Urden. He died only seeing his daughter's face once. His wife, Anariel, lived on for a few years, but as the soul-partner of a surface elf dies, the soul of the mate dies. Anariel surprised many of her kin by living on for several years. Yet, those years changed her beautiful mother greatly. By the time she finally died, her sparkling hair had lost its normal golden sheen and her blue-green eyes that once shone like the stars, seemed empty. Thalion missed her mother greatly, and although she had barely known her father, she missed him even more because of that fact. 

Although a human had killed her father, she harbored no hatred for the race. She knew through tales her mother told her, tales from Dove Falconhand, and then more recently Lady Alustriel that the twisted Roddy McGristle had become so overwhelmed with his obsession to kill Drizzt, that when her father stood in his way the mountain man had slew Kellindil without blinking. Her father had died defending a friend, and not many surface elves could call one of their cousins from the Underdark a friend. Kellindil was the first surface elf that the rogue drow had met when he entered the world of light, and after the light elf learned of this strange dark elf's actions in rescuing Dove Falconhand's party, Kellindil knew he had met a true friend. Although their paths had not crossed directly after their initial encounter, Kellindil, along with his kin followed Drizzt until he met up with the blind ranger, Montolio DeBrouchee, known to his friends as Mooshie. His cousins watched the drow throughout his stay with the ranger and reported back to Kellindil that Mooshie was teaching the dark elf the way of Mielikki, the Lady of the Forest. Nothing brought the archer more joy to hear that news, aside from the birth of his own daughter. He visited his family quickly to see his wife and child and returned with his cousins to watch over Mooshie's Grove and the dark elf. 

After the defeat of Ulgulu, Kempfana, Caroak, Graul and the hordes they lead against the blind ranger and the rogue drow, Kellindil apprehended Roddy McGristle. He was only a day away from turning the traitorous mountain man over to the authorities in Maldobar, when the quickling Tephanis released the burly man and aided him in killing Thalion's father. The murdered elf's body was found just a few weeks later by Dove Falconhand and the remainder of her adventuring party. By that time, Roddy McGristle and Tephanis had made their way nearly to the Spine of the World hot on the trail of the drow. Kellindil was mourned by Silverymoon, where he had first met Lady Alustriel. The Silver Lady had been invited along with her sisters to see the elf's new born daughter, and they were made her god-mothers. After Kellindil's and Anariel's deaths, Dove Falconhand had come to Moonwood and took the young Thalion with her back to Silverymoon where Lady Alustriel had offered to watch over the young elf until she was able to take care of herself. Thalion's kin had agreed wholeheartedly. There was no safer place than by the Lady Alustriel's side in Silverymoon. Thalion learned many things in the great city. She attended the University of Silverymoon, where she learned much about the magical arts, and she was privately tutored by the Knights of Silver, Lady Alustriel's elite knights, in the arts of battle. "For all good and goodly folk!" was their creed, and in turn Thalion had adopted that as her own. The Knights in Silver had adopted her as she was their own daughter, which they considered as a responsibility to the murdered Kellindil. Many elves were included in the ranks of the Knights, and all of the Knights had known the elven archer. 

_Father._ She shook her head and wiped the moisture from her eyes. _I shouldn't be doing this,_ she thought. _I loose track of the time when I mourn the past._ The kittens squirmed in her arms as she entered the palace. She gently put the kittens down on the floor and giggled as they pounced on each other and wrestled. She walked up the stairs and slowed at the top, waiting for the kittens to scale the steps. The three followed her like puppies down the hall and into her room. They clambered up into the bed and dug under the covers, as she put the contents of her pack away and drew out a change of clothes and a towel. "You three stay here until I come back. It will just take me a minute." 

Thalion gathered the scented oils she needed for her bath and went down the hall to the bathing chamber. She heated the water she needed and poured the oils in. Soon the entire room smelled like a meadow filled with wildflowers. Thalion sat in the warm water and scrubbed her body and washed her hair. When she had finished, she climbed out and dried off. She put on her change of clothes and went back to her room. The kittens were asleep in the covers, she noticed and a smile crossed her face as she tiptoed out of the room. 

She went back down the stairs and headed in the direction of her god-mother's chambers. It was after the work of the day was finished and she knew that she wouldn't interrupt any city business. She turned the corner and entered Lady Alustriel's audience chamber as she ran her hand through her still damp hair. "There you are," said her god-mother, "we've been waiting for you." Thalion stopped and looked up. 

Lady Alustriel's audience chamber was nearly full. The Harpells were seated together off to the left, her elvish family sat directly across from them on the right side of the room. Her kin nodded and several of the wizard family waved at her including her new friend, Hélène Volhard. The young blonde sorceress smiled winked at Thalion from where she sat next to Harkle Harpell. Dove Falconhand, one of her other god-mothers, sat on Lady Alustriel's left. Dove and her adventuring party were busy talking to the group that was across from them on her sister's right. The ranger was excitedly talking to the auburn haired woman that sat between the drow elf and the round halfling. 

"Regis, Drizzt and Cattie-brie!" Thalion exclaimed, "What are you doing here?" They stopped talking with Dove Falconhand, and Cattie-brie spoke first. "Well, we hear ye have a birthday a comin', and bein' that we're such close neighbors we figured that a birthday was somethin' that merited at least a visit." The rest of the gathering laughed, because although Mithril Hall was not very far away from Silverymoon, the woman did not consider the underground city her home. She, Drizzt and Regis lived in the far northern reaches of the Realms, just before the Sea of Moving Ice, in a place called Icewind Dale. "And we hear," piped the halfling next to her, "that Silverymoon has absolutely the best parties. We had to make certain that the rumors were true." That drew another chuckle from the rest of the group. Regis "Rumblebelly" only smiled. 

After Thalion recovered from her excitement, she asked, "Did you really all come to see me, and to celebrate my birthday?" Drizzt answered her, "It is not everyday that you will turn twenty five. We are hear to help you remember that day, and to help you celebrate." The dark elf smiled and his younger counterpart. _She looks so much like Ellifain_, Drizzt lamented, _so very much like her_. Ellifain was the moon elf that Drizzt had saved from his murderous kin on his first surface raid. By saving the young surface elf, Drizzt fell from Lloth's favor and disgraced his family. He had met her for the final time just a few short months ago and had slain her in combat, while she was wearing a mask to hide her identity. If he had known the truth, he would have never raised his scimitars against her but she came to him disguised as a male elf, and threatening his friends. The drow shook his head sadly, and his lavender eyes wore a pained expression. Cattie-Brie gently placed her hand on Drizzt's ebon skinned arm, and he placed his hand over hers. He cleared his throat and smiled, "Besides, Guenhwyvar has wanted to see you again." The black panther stood up beside Drizzt where she had been laying at Lady Alustriel's feet. Thalion smiled sheepishly at Drizzt as she looked at her god-mothers. They only smiled in return, although Thalion knew that Drizzt had told them of how Guenhwyvar had rescued the girl from a band of lycanthropes in Silverwood. The were-people would have most certainly killed Thalion if Guenhwyvar and Drizzt had not happened upon the scene and drove off the People of the Black Blood. Guenhwyvar's muscles rippled as she paced over to Thalion's side. Thalion knelt down and scratched the giant panther's head. "Thanks, Guen," she whispered into the cat's ear. Guenhwyvar purred loudly and lay down at her feet. 

Thalion sat down cross-legged on the floor next to Guenhwyvar and looked back at her silver haired godmother. "What are we doing? I thought the party was tomorrow," she asked. Dove Falconhand answered, "We had planned to celebrate tomorrow, but several things have happened that called for all of our attention," she paused and glanced at Drizzt. "The trolls in the Evermoors are on the move," the dark elf said casually. "I thought that perhaps we had stirred them up somehow when we skirted the northern edge on our quick trip to Mithril Hall before we came here. I sent Regis and Cattie-brie on ahead and scouted with Guenhwyvar for several nights." He paused as a bout of whispering broke out. "What did you discover Drizzt?" asked one of the Moonwood elves. 

The drow smiled and continued, "It was as I had feared Gilraen," Drizzt nodded to the Moonwood elf and continued, "The trolls were on the move although I could not determine their purpose. I hope observe them more soon." Cattie-brie interrupted, "And whatever Drizzt discovers, there's at least a thousand dwarves that are right and ready to smash on somethin' and by my Da's reckonin' troll splatters just as good as anythin' else." Drizzt and Thalion smiled as the rest of the gathering laughed. The tale of King Bruenor Battlehammer's slaying of the dark dragon Shimmergloom and his flaming ride on the beast's back to the bottom of Garumn's Gorge had been heard by all that were present. Cattie-brie's adopted father was known to be tough as the mountain's roots, and twice as strong. 

"We have heard reports from our scouts that the dire wolves have been out hunting in the daylight," said Gilraen, the elf that had spoken to Drizzt earlier. Drizzt and Dove Falconhand both were frowning. Both seasoned rangers knew that it was very rare to see the large voracious wolves moving about in the sunlight. The dire wolves favored the night, and Drizzt mentally likened the situation to drow elves hunting in the day. The rest of the gathering nodded knowingly. Lady Alustriel spoke next, "My Knights in Silver have also reported that they have seen more movement from the goblin and orc clans that live to the north of Silverymoon in the Nether Mountains. We have sent scouts to the east, and to the other communities in the Silver Marches, but as of yet they have nothing to report." 

Thalion's brows furrowed and she frowned. _That's what mission Barachiel has gone on then._ Barachiel Elentari was to Thalion, an older sister. She had been Thalion's first servant when she arrived in Silverymoon, and as time had passed, they grew closer than sisters could. The dark haired, blue eyed Barachiel was always there to listen to whatever Thalion had to say, and she gave the best advice. As a Knight in Silver, Barachiel defended her city with her life. Often at night she and Thalion could be found walking the grounds of the High Palace or in the practice hall sharpening their skills. Yet, recently, Barachiel had been asked to head a scouting mission to the northern reaches of the Silver Marches, and she could not tell Thalion where she was going and when she would return. "By your birthday," she had promised the day the Knights had ridden north from Silverymoon. Yet Thalion frowned; her birthday was tomorrow.

"We have passed through many of the areas in question," said Dove Falconhand, "and we have witnessed the same as the scouts have reported. Cattie-brie, what of the deep tunnels of Mithril Hall? Has there been any activity in the depths of the mines that might shed light on our situation here on the surface?" 

The auburn haired woman shook her head, "No activity has been reported to me Da' since we passed through yesterday. But, if there is somethin' goin' on, yer sister will be the first to know." Lady Alustriel smiled at Cattie-brie, "Thank you, dear friend. The alliance that is maintained between Mithril Hall and Silverymoon is no small thing. There will be many threats to the peace that we wish to maintain here in the Silver Marches. I agree that there is something larger going on that we cannot see the root of; we will need to continue to remain vigilant as we have in the past." The company nodded and spoke amongst themselves. 

All remembered the Battle of Mithril Hall where Lady Alustriel had sent a large contingent of her Silver Knights and then had personally participated in the defense of the Hall against the assault of the drow from Menzoberranzan, firing on the dark elves from her flaming chariot. When the drow had invaded Mithril Hall, Thalion had only been in Silverymoon for a few short weeks, and now it had been her home for nearly fifteen years. Time most certainly had passed. 

It was Regis that interrupted their musings about the past. "I'm certain that Thalion was most certainly interested in all of our ramblings, but on the subject of her birthday, perhaps we should be celebrating." Thalion beamed. "If we are to be celebrating," Regis continued, "I want to present the first gifts." The halfling reached down into his pack that sat at his feet. "The first one is from the Eighth King of Mithril Hall. King Bruenor Battlehammer sends his congratulations and wishes you many more happy and healthy years Lady Thalion." Thalion rolled up to her knees in front of Regis and took the heavy package from the halfling's chubby fingers. She sat it gingerly on the carpet and unwrapped it carefully. She lifted the contents for all to see. Dove Falconhand nodded her approval, "Mithril chain mail. Let Bruenor know that we are most impressed and honored with his choice of a gift." Thalion smiled and threw her arms around Regis. "Tell him thank you for me! It is beautiful; like a silver stream, and I know it will protect me against anything." Regis smiled back at her, "You can tell him when you see him, because I've got a feeling that you will be able to soon." Thalion's brow furrowed and she frowned as she tried to determine what the halfling's cryptic words meant. 

"This one's from me," Cattie-brie said as she passed the elven maiden a smaller, thin wrapped package. Thalion pulled the paper off of it rapidly. "She may not be Khazid'hea," Cattie-brie said as she patted the sword at her side, "but Drizzt assures me that the dagger that you now hold in your hands carries a legacy that is no less grand." Thalion turned the dagger over in her hands and admired the keen blade. _Hello, Thalion_, the blade sang. _My name is Caragrist. I am the Fang-Cleaver. I hope to serve you well._ As the blade sang to Thalion, its pommel began to take shape. It twisted and elongated and finally settled into the form of a prancing unicorn. "Don't worry," Drizzt said, "the shape of the pommel changes for each wielder. Cattie-brie's sword did the same thing when she first began to use it." 

Drizzt smiled and continued, "Now for my gift." He pulled a small package from his pack and handed it to Thalion. "Open it carefully; Regis and I worked hard on this one." Inside of the paper Thalion found two delicately carved scrimshaw pieces from the knucklehead trout that lived in the lakes of Ten-Towns in Icewind Dale. One was of a unicorn's head and the other was a highly detailed acorn, the symbols of Mielikki and Shallia. "You can wear them as a necklace," Regis clarified, "They interlock back to back and you can take them with you wherever you may go." "The chain is made of mythril," Drizzt added, "to match your new armor. What's even better, Regis carved the pieces so perfectly, that when they lock together, you have a small flask. Just the perfect size to carry a small amount of water from a certain holy spring." Thalion nodded and smiled, such wonderful presents, and she hadn't even gotten anything from the Harpells, her kin, or her godmothers. 

After many stories were shared of how they first remember seeing her, the Harpells gave her enchanted boots that would keep her feet light and pace quick, no matter how far or long she traveled. Harkle had brought her a carry sack that contained an extra-dimensional enchantment that allowed her to fit nearly anything inside of it. She planted a quick kiss on Harkle's cheek and he gave her a fierce hug in return. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, and he blushed deeply. 

Her elvish family gave her a finely detailed quiver with a new bow to match. Dove Falconhand and her adventuring party brought her a concealment cape that allowed the wearer to nearly disappear if they were still and quiet enough. Her final gift came from Lady Alustriel. 

Her godmother brushed a strand of silver hair out of her eyes, and cleared her throat. "This present will not be the largest or most impressive one that you have received this night, but I believe it may become the most valuable in the long run. I have seen many things in my years, and there is only one other like this gift that I know that currently exists." Whispers erupted from all over the gathering. Lady Alustriel smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Thalion, come here please." 

The dark-haired elf stood and approached as she was asked. "Close your eyes and open your hands." Thalion did so obediently. Her god-mother placed a cold stone object in her hands and gently wrapped her fingers around Thalion's. "Now you may open them." Thalion blinked wide when her eyes opened and she looked at the gift. It was a small stone figurine made from a cloudy white colored stone. 

The effigy was cool to her touch and as she turned it over in her hands, Thalion admired its craftsmanship. The canine face and pricked ears, the shining blue eyes, the full bushy tail, the strong powerful legs and nails, the ripples in its fur; the representation of the wolf was perfect. "His name is Ornlu," her god-mother said, after Thalion caught her breath. "As I understand it, he is like Drizzt's Guenhwyvar, so be certain to take good care of him." Thalion sat back down on the floor next to Guenhwyvar and laughed as the great cat sniffed the figurine, wrinkled up her nose and snorted. She turned back to Lady Alustriel, "Where did this come from? How did you find it, and why do you want me to have it?" 

Her silver-haired godmother smiled. "It belonged to an old friend of mine, Ioreth, and with his death, he left it to me. The old fool was determined to find a battle he could not win, so he wandered into the mountains and found an entrance to the Underdark." She paused as a pained expression came across Drizzt's face. "Fear not, dear Drizzt. It was not the tunnel you used to come to the surface. Ioreth found one of many tunnels and plunged downward. He magically communicated with me many times on his journey, and I have his adventure recorded in one of the tomes in the Library." The gathering was listening to her every word. "There finally came a day which he did not contact me," tears rimmed the High Lady's eyes. "I traced him and found his body and possessions and brought them back here as he had wished." She wiped her eyes with a cloth and continued, "He was buried on the hillside where we first met, so long ago just outside of Silverymoon." 

She paused and looked at Drizzt. "He had been killed not by a monster that haunts the Underdark, but by several drow. When I discovered his body, Ornlu was standing guard; and had he not recognized me at the last moment, he would have attacked me." Drizzt's brow furrowed, "As I understand Guenhwyvar, once the one who calls the astral beast is dead, the beast must return to the astral plane." Lady Alustriel nodded in agreement, "That has been my understanding as well, but despite the terrible wounds the wolf had sustained, I found him fiercely standing over his fallen master. I spent a long time in the Underdark calming the beast and finally convincing him that his loved master was gone. As he returned to the astral plane in a cloud of fog, he threw back his head and howled. I don't think that the creatures that lived in the Underdark knew what to make of that mournful, otherworldly sound." The Silver Lady paused, "I promised him that I would find him another companion that would love him as much as he loved his previous master. Thalion you are to be that companion. I have seen how you love your animals, even that silly spindly legged colt Lach." 

The younger elf blushed at the compliment, yet she knew it to be true. Already she felt the stone figurine pull at her heart. Drizzt sat down next to her, "Perhaps you should call him," he smiled, "I know how Guen gets if I leave her there too long; I'm certain he's lonely." The panther rumbled and roared in protest. Thalion smiled, "Alright. I'll call him now." She placed the stone figurine on the floor. "Ornlu, come here boy." 

**********

The silver wolf lay in the shadow of a large tree high up on a snowy mountain. He sleepily blinked his blue eyes and opened his mouth in a large, toothy yawn. He surveyed the landscape around him, searching for what had woken him. The astral spirit of a golden eagle rode the winds high about him, and further down the mountainside he could see several astral elf and sheep as they grazed. This was his home, and yet something was amiss in his paradise. He stood and shook the snow from his silver hide and sniffed the air. He could smell the bear that lived in the cave just a short way up the mountain as it slept, but nothing out of the ordinary was detected by his keen sense of smell. But his ears picked up something. He flicked them back and forth straining to hear the noise. 

Someone had spoken his name, and he had recognized the voice. It was the woman that had sent him back and taken his master's body to where it belonged. Ornlu sat up eagerly, for he remembered that promise she had made him long ago to find him a new master. His heart nearly bust with joy when he heard the girl's voice call to him across the planes. With a broad smile on his canine face, he looked over his shoulder at his astral home as he happily bounded toward the tunnel. 

**********

Thalion, Drizzt, and Guenhwyvar stood as the effigy was engulfed in fog. Shortly, the fog cleared and the silvery-white astral wolf stood in its place. Ornlu blinked his blue eyes as his eyes adjusted to the material plane. He heard the voice of his new master talking to him and petting him. As his eyes finally adjusted to the material plane, he looked around him. There was his new master, a young dark-haired elf, and beside was an older drow. A vicious snarl issued from deep within him. In a single bound, he placed himself between his master and the dark elf, only to be greeted by a snarling Guenhwyvar. The astral panther's hackles were raised and she roared loudly in his face. "No Ornlu! Drizzt and Guenhwyvar are our friends!" Thalion stood between the wolf and the panther. 

Ornlu cocked his head to the side with a puzzled expression on his face, until Thalion finally figured out what was going on. "Drizzt, he thinks you killed his previous master. I'm sorry." She turned to the wolf, "Look at him Ornlu, does he look young enough to be your former master's murderer?" Cattie-brie, Regis and Dove Falconhand nearly fell to the floor in a fit of laughter as they saw the "Do I really look that old?" look cross Drizzt's face. The drow frowned and glared at his friends who only laughed harder. Ornlu sat back on his haunches and stared hard at his new master. She quickly sat down next to him. "It's okay Ornlu; I will protect you from now on. You must not think things are still like they were when your last master died. The world has changed greatly since that time." Lady Alustriel nodded in agreement, "Yes, Ornlu. Things most certainly have changed." The wolf wagged his tail at the Silver Lady and padded up to her side, where she scratched his ears. "I hope that you find Thalion to be a good master, and I hope that she finds you to be a worthy companion, because we have a job for you both." 

END CHAPTER ONE

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Okay you guys! I want your honest opinion. Please tell me what you think would make the story better, what needs to be changed, and if you feel that the Wizards of the Coast© characters ring true. Please tell me what you think! Any comments are welcome. I am still wrestling with the paragraph sizing & indention. (Any pointers on this?)


	2. The Shadows Behind Him

            D'Aron d'lil D'Issan rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had been standing watch in the High Palace since the sun had set, and now as the night wore on, he found it hard to stay awake. Thalion had passed by earlier on her way to her god-mother's chambers to celebrate her one hundred and twenty fifth birthday, and she had not even noticed him. He honestly loved her, but sometimes the elven maiden was oblivious to all around her, especially her doting suitor.

The air was thick with the smell of the moonflowers as they bloomed out in the garden, and their aroma was like a sweet lullaby to the dark skinned elf. He was not a full-blooded drow, or he probably would not have been allowed to stand in the High Palace as a guard, even though recent events had seemed to slightly change the way the surface world viewed his father's race. His skin carried a pale purplish hue, and his hair was mostly white, with several darker streaks thrown in as a sign from his mother, a Moon-Elf. 

A smile formed on his face briefly as he though of his father and mother; what a pair they had been! It was well known that drow elves hated their surface cousins; hated them enough to carry out surface raids against their light skinned counterparts. Yet, his father had fallen deeply in love with one. 

                                                **********

Mar'duk D'Issan was numbered among many of the drow males that were members of Bregan D'aerthe. The mercenary band, headed by the ever resourceful Jarlaxle Baenre, was one of the few ways that common males could hope to improve themselves in the chaotic matriarchal spectacle that was Menzoberranzan. Yet Mar'duk's lineage was not as common as was thought. He was one of several illegitimate children sired by Kimmuriel Oblodra in his younger years out of common drow stock. 

After the fall of House Oblodra into the Clawrift, the mothers wisely hid their children's heritage so as not to invoke doom upon themselves and their houses. Yet in the city of the drow, nasty secrets always seemed to work their way back to the surface. By the time he entered the fighter's academy, Mar'duk's mother had been a hired guard for one of the city's lesser houses, House Vandree, when it came under severe attack by one of its rivals, another house. The attack was defeated, but at great cost to House Vandree. Many of its hired guards (Mar'duk's mother included) lay slain; but such was the way of life in Menzoberranzan; they would be replaced. 

The bodies of the slain drow were unceremoniously delivered to their own houses, and Mar'duk saw to it that his mother was buried as best as they could afford, then he returned to his studies at Melee-Magthere. After graduation he returned home and tried to figure out what course his life should take. Would he be a hired guard like his mother? Or was there something else that he was destined to do? 

His ponderings were interrupted by a knock on the door, which opened as though it had never been locked. In strode a drow wearing a ridiculous wide brimmed hat with a sweeping diatryma feather attached. His eye patch (on his left eye that day) sparkled in the darkness, and his enchanted boots clacked loudly on the floor. With a word, Mar'duk brightened the chamber and eyed his visitor with wide eyed wonder. "Greetings Mar'duk D'Issan, or perhaps I should say Mar'duk Oblodra," the cunning mercenary grinned, "I am sorry to hear what has befallen your mother." 

Mar'duk returned Jarlaxle's revelation of his heritage with a dangerous glare. "How is it that you know this?" he asked when he had regained his composure. The bald mercenary bowed and replied with a grin, "It is my business, and I find it very profitable. The price for information here in Menzoberranzan is quite expensive, you know." 

Did the leader of Bregan D'aerthe intend to sell information regarding his heritage to the highest bidder? If that was the case, Mar'duk imagination gave him several possibilities as to what his fate would be. An ambitious matron mother (which one wasn't?) would capture him and force him to be a patron, in the desire to strengthen her house through breeding with the remaining Oblodra blood in the hopes of producing children that would be talented psionicists like the Oblodra family before its fall into the Clawrift. 

He smiled at the thought of being a patron, but Mar'duk's ideas changed quickly when he realized that eventually he would fall out of favor with his mate and then be sacrificed to Lolth, the spider queen. He looked back to Jarlaxle as the cunning mercenary smiled knowingly at him, "They would use you to their own gain, and then discard you when they were finished." 

_Not unlike what your father has suggested in doing with you, but I have other ideas,_ the third son of house Baenre thought. "What do you suggest that I do then, Jarlaxle?" Mar'duk asked. The answer "Join Bregan D'aerthe" did not surprise Mar'duk, and he gathered his things to follow his new leader out of his mother's house.

He followed in the mercenary's footsteps for many years, finally securing a position in Bregan D'aerthe that allowed him a little privacy. He was trained by his father to use his limited psionic skills to the best of his abilities, and he practiced day after day sharpening his weapons skills with many of the other members of the mercenary band. 

He was eventually sent by Jarlaxle to scout out the areas of the Silver Marches surrounding Mithril Hall, because one of their clients (the powerful Matron Baenre) wanted to attack the dwarven stronghold and take it for her own. Mar'duk performed his mission as instructed and was on the way back to Menzoberranzan when he was captured by a patrol of Moon Elves. They carried him back with them to Moonwood, where he was imprisoned and interrogated. 

After he was questioned by the elves, he was taken as a prisoner to Silverymoon to meet with Lady Alustriel. Mar'duk had lived in a matriarchal society for much of his life, but nothing he had seen before could prepare him for the spectacle that was the Lady of Silverymoon. Being that he was very much unaware of the surface elves' customs, he reacted as he would have if he was still in Menzoberranzan; he looked only at Alustriel's feet. 

Instead of being disgusted by the prisoner, Lady Alustriel's curiosity was piqued. She arranged for the captured drow to stay in Silverymoon where she could watch after him, and protect him against any attack that might be proposed by his capturers or any other (for drow elves were known to be deadly menaces; and many would like to take a shot at the captured drow). Alustriel arranged for Mar'duk to be housed near the High Palace where they could meet often, and the drow could share with her his insights about the surface, and tales of his home. It was the Lady of Silverymoon who introduced him to the elven maiden that would one day be his wife. 

He and the Silver Lady were to meet in the gardens of the High Palace as was the usual, but this time, Lady Alustriel brought a friend with her. "This is Dahlia, of the Moon elves that roam Moonwood," said Alustriel as they sat down next to the drow, "Her father was the one who captured you in the Silver Marches." Mar'duk acknowledged the visitor with a nod and smile. The smaller dark haired female elf smiled back and blushed slightly, "I wanted to see how Lady Alustriel was treating you," she said quietly. 

Mar'duk finally realized that he had seen her many years before; she was the first surface elf to have shown him anything that resembled kindness. She had fed him and tended his wounds on his trip to Moonwood and then accompanied him to Silverymoon for his delivery to Lady Alustriel. Mar'duk smiled broadly at that realization, "She is treating me well, but she is not the one that I owe my life to. In Menzoberranzan, I would be so deeply in your debt Lady Dahlia, that I would most likely be your slave." 

Lady Alustriel's eyes sparkled and she did well to hide her smile, for she knew from Mar'duk's tales of his Underdark home, that he would already be Dahlia's slave if she had been a female drow. _Quick on his feet, this one is,_ mused Alustriel, _no wonder he was able to keep his hide in the Underdark._ The Silver Lady smiled as her Moon elf friend blushed again. "I have urgent Silverymoon business to attend to, so if you two will excuse me," Alustriel rose to leave. "The prisoner Mar'duk D'Issan is released to you Dahlia Tathren for this day," the older woman said with a sly wink. "Please have him returned to the Palace tonight."

Mar'duk and Dahlia explored much of Silverymoon in that bright afternoon. They visited many of the city's famed attractions, but the one that impressed the pair the most was Mielikki's Glade. Both felt the serenity of the Glade calling out to both of them, and they spent quite a while there sharing stories, Dahlia telling of the Moon elves, and Mar'duk sharing stories of the drow. 

After the afternoon was over, the pair discovered that they actually had much in common; both craved adventure, both wondered what was over the horizon, and both were ready for their lives to sweep them away somewhere full of danger. He was returned to Lady Alustriel with Dahlia's promise that she would return and visit as often as she could. She was back the next week, and the next, and the next.

Their relationship quickly evolved from simple acquaintances, to good friends. They went on many day trips to the areas of the Silver Marches surrounding Silverymoon and returned full of tales for Lady Alustriel. The older woman was happy to see that the somewhat withdrawn and mysterious drow was opening his inner feelings completely to his new friend, but she wondered how long they would stay only friends.

A few months later, Dahlia and Mar'duk asked for the Silver Lady's blessing to be married, which she granted happily. As the two mismatched elves left Silverymoon to follow their destiny's path, Alustriel wondered where they would find a life that would accept them both, and the child that she knew would be coming soon. 

They wandered the Silver Marches for a while seeking adventure until Dahlia could not safely travel with the baby inside of her. The day they returned to Silverymoon was a happy day for Lady Alustriel. She had her friends housed with her in part of the High Palace, and a few weeks later, the baby was born.

The boy most resembled his father, with his darkened skin and mostly white hair, but he had his mother's blue eyes. Mar'duk spent the morning waiting on Dahlia and their baby. He proudly carried his son to show Alustriel later that day. "We have named him D'Aron d'lil D'Issan," the proud drow father beamed. _Knight of the Dawn, thought Lady Alustriel, __How fitting a name for a half-drow born into the world of light._

            D'Aron grew up at the High Palace under the careful watch of his protective "Auntie" Alustriel. His father earned a place in the Palace guard, and he spent his spare moments instructing his son on the use of weapons and his psionic gifts. Dahlia taught him Moon elf lore and magic when she was not out on patrol with the Knights in Silver. He grew up to be quite the handsome youth, and was the talk of many of the young ladies of Silverymoon.

            Their fairy tale existence was abruptly ended the day that a messenger arrived from Moonwood telling them that Dahlia's father had died. Mar'duk and Dahlia set out immediately to attend to matters of the burial. D'Aron was left behind in Silverymoon, much to his disgust, but had he gone with his parents, he would have shared their grim fate.

            They made it as far as the southern reaches of the Moonwood before they realized that something was terribly wrong. Mar'duk knew something was amiss and a sickening feeling in his gut told him what he hated to admit. The usual chorus of insects and night animals hushed suddenly. Mar'duk peered around the slight clearing in which they had made their camp. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as their pursuers finally showed themselves. It was a party of hunting drow, and as was customary for his dark race, they hunters only showed themselves after they were certain that the pair of mismatched elves were indeed alone in the middle of the Silver Marches.

            "You disgrace the name of Bregan D'aerthe, you traitor!" spat the first drow to show his dark face. Mar'duk placed Dahlia protectively behind him. "We've been sent to clean up any loose ends," continued the drow, "and you've been deemed very loose by our current leader." Mar'duk's brows furrowed, "Why would Jarlaxle think that I'm a traitor?" he asked the leader of the assassination party. 

"Jarlaxle? You think Jarlaxle sent us?" The drow laughed loudly and was joined by the others of the party. "Jarlaxle does not command Bregan D'aerthe now," the first drow said with a vicious snarl. Mar'duk wondered what fate had befallen his former friend, if one could call Jarlaxle that. "Kimmuriel Oblodra commands that his heir and rival be eliminated." 

_ Heir and rival? _If the breeze had been any stronger, Mar'duk would have been blown away. His father had gained control of Bregan D'aerthe? What had happened that would have precipitated this strange turn of events? He decided that he indeed was lost in the world of the drow even more than he had been that day long ago when Jarlaxle had invited him to join Bregan D'aerthe. 

He turned and nodded to his wife. _I'm so sorry, his eyes said.__ If I knew this was going to happen to us, I would have killed myself before I ever reached Silverymoon. Dahlia shook her head and glared back at him,_ So, we are just going to lie down and die? I think not._ Her feral grin startled him back to his senses. They would fight this cruel fate. There were two of them and at least nine opposing drow. The sickening sound of swords being drawn and the clicking of drow crossbows being loaded brought him back to their desperate situation. Mar'duk did not want to admit it, but he knew that both of them would die here tonight. At least they would take a few of his miserable kin with them._

As a testament to their mentors, Tarathiel and Innovindil, Mar'duk and Dahlia danced about each other brilliantly using each other's spinning bodies as shields and even as weapons.  They took the first assailant as they spun around each other, Mar'duk's sword taking the female in the lung and Dahlia's took out her throat. As the first drow crumpled and fell to the ground clutching at her throat, another took up her position. Mar'duk heard the clicking of fired crossbows and felt the crackling as his psionic barrier took the hits. He knew had he not set the barrier about both he and his wife, they would have been doomed in the first round of poisoned drow bolts. 

The bolts hung in the air where they would have pierced his skin had the barrier not been present. The first would have hit him in the hip, then just above his right knee, and finally the last would be lodged in his left shoulder. He staggered slightly as another drow fell at his feet to his slashing blades. He caught his wife's eye as they spun about and dispatched another pair of drow with vicious slashes to their arms and faces. To his relief, she only seemed to be barely injured, where she had traded a rather vicious slash to her right forearm to a clean decapitation of the offending drow. 

They continued to spin, building momentum, slashing out at their assailants as they passed. Mar'duk dropped suddenly and in one fluid motion sent Dahlia sailing around behind him. He grinned with satisfaction as the air was rent with a sickening crack, followed by the groaning of two more of their attackers. The first fell to the ground screaming in agony with a completely shattered hip and the other took a solid hit to the jaw. He fell and lay very still. 

Mar'duk stood back up and met their remaining pair of attackers with a feral grin. The larger female started moving her fingers about in rapid movements, casting a spell. Both Dahlia and Mar'duk knew they could not defeat a wizard in their present conditions, so Mar'duk dropped his psionic barrier explosively in the hope that the casting drow would be caught in the ensuing blast. 

His plan would have worked had the devilish female not grabbed the remaining male by his neck and placed him as a shield in front of her. Is the psionic energy dissipated, the drow wizard threw the corpse to the ground, wiped the bloody gore from her face with a sleeve and continued her chanting. 

They knew that they could not escape. Dahlia threw her arms around Mar'duk as they hugged each other tightly. "I love you," she whispered in his ear with tears in her eyes. He smiled back and kissed her for the last time. The cast fireball exploded brightly, singeing the wizard's robes and her silver hair. She grinned in satisfaction of the grim scene; now complete with the charred carcasses of the traitor and his wife. Yet the female wizard had to admit, she was impressed. The frightened pair had been able to coordinate their movements enough to actually defeat eight of the drow that they faced. But then again, it only takes one drow to kill.

The murdered elves were found a few days later by a contingent of the Knights in Silver. Silverymoon was broken hearted; for the entire city had seemingly gotten swept up in the fairy-tale romance of Mar'duk and Dahlia. Alustriel was often seen with tears in her eyes, and D'Aron was found wandering the streets, listless.

Lady Alustriel was determined to see justice done, so she enlisted the help of her sister, Dove Falconhand, to try to find the remaining drow and bring her to justice. Yet even given the legendary skills of the ranger and her adventuring troupe, the drow had been able to escape, back to Menzoberranzan. 

                                                **********

D'Aron regretted that he had not been with his parents on that fateful night, perhaps, had he been there, they might have defeated the final drow and lived to tell the tale. The possibility that his parents could have been saved became a mental battle for the young half-drow. He constantly blamed himself for their demise, yet he knew he should not.

He quietly walked away from his post and out to the edge of the garden, as silent as a cat. His dark blue eyes glittered as he stood watching the play of the moths as they visited the moonflowers and flitted around in the silvery moonlight. He leaned his enchanted halberd against the wall behind him and sat down on one of the many stone benches. He leaned down, stretching to touch his toes and then reached up high above his head. He slowly twisted his slender limbs, and then reached back down to his neck, massaging his cramping muscles. His stretches completed, he stood again and slipped his hands down the back of his legs and gripped the hilts of the two swords that were strapped there. 

When a moth flitted too close, D'Aron's well trained muscles sprung into action. In one fluid movement, he had drawn his swords from their sheaths and set them in a spinning pattern about the silvery moth. The speed of his strikes was dizzying, and the created whirlwind between the slender blades kept the moth flying around in circles, unable to break away from the prison of wind that the drow had created. In a few seconds, D'Aron slowed and allowed the dizzy moth to light on one of his blades. He sheathed the other and waited for the confused creature to regain its equilibrium. 

After placing the moth on a nearby moonflower, D'Aron sheathed his other sword, and retrieved his halberd. He was now fully awake. He stretched again and walked back to his post, casting a globe of darkness over himself as he went. 

He had just made it back to his assigned position when he heard familiar footfalls coming down the hall. Thalion was coming back from Lady Alustriel's chambers, finally. The hall darkened as a cloud covered the moon. D'Aron blinked as his eyes shifted into the infrared spectrum. He could see Thalion's footprints on the carpet as she moved along coming near to his post, and her breath as she hurried down the hallway. Her body glowed like a beacon; the heat she gave off was bright as she hurried toward him. 

D'Aron stilled his breathing and waited. She neared his position and stopped. Turning to face him, she put a slender hand aside his face and rubbed his cheek. She slid up against him and he wrapped her in a tight hug. "Are you certain that you don't have infrared vision?" he asked her after they shared a kiss. She leaned back from him and gazed into his dark eyes as the moon shone brightly again and the globe of darkness dissipated. "No, I don't have infrared vision, but I can feel where you are all the time." He smiled brightly and kissed her again.

D'Aron left his halberd at his assigned post and walked with Thalion to the garden. They lay on the bench that he had used earlier and she curled up against him, her dark hair mingling with his as they stared up at the stars and the moon. "How was your birthday this year?" D'Aron asked her as he lay with one arm back behind his head and the other wrapped protectively around her hip. Thalion smiled as she lay on his muscular chest, listening to his breathing. "I'll show you in the morning what all everyone gave me. But you'll never guess who came this year."

He halfway sat up, grinning mischievously, "What will you give me if I guess?" "How about my undying love and devotion." D'Aron quieted as if pondering her statement. "I've already got that, how about a kiss then?" Thalion sat up, "Agreed." "And if I guess all of them…" He bent to whisper in her ear. He sat back and grinned devilishly. "You wish," the dark haired elf replied to his _very_ forward request with a glare and an arched eyebrow. "You know as well as I that I will not do _that_ unless I am bound to the other, and the other to me." "We will have to do that soon then," D'Aron said as he lay back on the stone and ran his slender fingers through her hair. As she lay back down on his chest, Thalion heartingly agreed.

She knew from the first moment that she had met him, that D'Aron would be her soul partner. He had been on duty at his post in the castle when she first noticed him, and he had taken an interest in her stories of excursions to Silverwood. The exotic half-drow had helped her take care of Hwesta when the small kitten was rescued from the Rauvin by Eradan. They had seen each other grow up, and were very much alike. This pleased Lady Alustriel beyond words, yet it pained her too. She remembered when D'Aron's father and mother had been this way, and she resolved that a similar fate would not befall her newest young charges.

As she with him, D'Aron had fallen quickly and hard for Thalion. She was spirited and wild as he had remembered his parents had been, and the sight of her as she walked the grounds of the palace haunted him. He had found her many times with her long dark hair cascading around her as she worked in the garden planting new flowers she found on her excursions to Silverwood. Under her care, the strange flowers bloomed and thrived, drawing new butterflies and moths to the already enchanting garden of Silverymoon. Thalion had been the one to find the moonflowers that now seemed as if they had always been a part of the palace. The greenish-white blossoms opened in the early evening, and stayed upon until the sun showed its face again. 

They lay on the bench for a while, watching the moths and the stars. D'Aron closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The scent of the moonflowers was almost overpowering, but he could detect the slight smell of lavender floating on the wind. _Thalion's scent, he mused. _Never again will I think of merely lavender when I pass a field of the purple flowers._ "Are you going to try and guess who came this year," asked Thalion who had similarly closed her eyes, "Or do I have to find another excuse to kiss you?"_

  
            D'Aron smiled, but kept his eyes shut. "Lady Alustriel, your kin, and the Harpells," the half-drow said sleepily. "That's three," Thalion yawned, "keep going." Covering his mouth to suppress his yawn, D'Aron continued, "Dove Falconhand and her troupe, and another group." "That makes four correct, but you'll never guess who was in the last group." D'Aron paused thoughtfully, "I saw Hélène Volhard come in with the Harpells, but I know that Barachiel is still out on patrol. Have you heard anything from her lately?" Thalion shook her head, "No, but I now know where she went. I'll tell you in the morning." D'Aron sat quietly for a few moments, as he tried to figure out who might have been to his loved one's party. 

"Drizzt, Regis and Cattie-brie," Thalion said quietly, "You missed those three, so I owe you five tomorrow." D'Aron lay very quietly. _Drizzt Do'Urden, Regis and Cattie-brie, what would they be doing here?_ Not simply celebrating a birthday D'Aron knew. Something was definitely going on, and he determined that he would soon know what it was. He lay quietly trying to piece together this newly discovered puzzle. He cleared his throat to ask Thalion to share more with him, when he realized that she was already deep in slumber. 

He sat gingerly and cradled her gently in his arms. He carried her quietly out of the garden and up the stairs to her chamber where he placed her carefully in her bed and tucked her in. With a swift kiss to her brow, he exited the way he came and walked back to his assigned post just in time to see his replacement come around the corner. He waved at the human guard, who nodded in response. D'Aron gathered his belongings and walked in the direction of his room, all the while his mind digesting what he had learned from Thalion that night. Drizzt Do'Urden was back in Silverymoon, and the young half-drow desperately needed to talk to someone that shared his father's heritage. 

Perhaps he could find the famous ranger the next day, and ask to speak with him in private, although he seriously doubted he would be able to see the famous drow. Yet D'Aron knew that he must find a way to contact his idol if he were to ever find a way to be with Thalion and keep her safe from his father's race. His important thoughts were lost as dreams of his future life with his love overcame him and he plunged into a very deep sleep.


	3. Moonlight

            Although it was most beautiful to behold, night in the wilderness of the Silver Marches could be a deadly thing. Many an adventurer had met their end in the vast wilds that stretched from the Spine of the World in the north to the High Forest in the south. The wildest lands were populated by goblins, orcs, giants and the occasional dragon. Even the more tame regions boasted ferocious wolves, lycanthropes, and the occasional vicious barbarian band. 

Given the considerable dangers posed by the creatures that lived in the Silver Marches, there could be found and even deadlier adversary, the weather. Avalanches and rockslides often killed would be bands of adventurers and merchants as they attempted to make their way through and around the Nether Mountains.  

            If one managed to survive against these many challenges, they were either incredibly lucky, or became very wise as to how to survive in the region. Many foolish adventurers had died chasing their dreams straight into an angry dragon's lair, or directly into the path of an oncoming avalanche or rockslide. 

            Fletcher Ravenmane shook his head sadly and stamped his hooves. Too many of his kin had perished recently. The tribe of centaurs had unluckily stumbled upon a cavern near to Moonwood that lead to the Underdark. While attempting to close the rift in the earth, they were attacked and slaughtered by the drow that used the tunnel as an exit to the surface. Fletcher rubbed a hand over his face and looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the centaur camp. There were several fires going, and he easily made out the shapes of the centaur sentries as they circled the camp, staring out into the night. 

            What they were searching the night for, Fletcher had heard stories of only when he had been a small colt. The drow were merciless killers whose only thoughts were to prolong and increase the pain of their victim's death. He had not believed the tales until he had accompanied his father, Chief Astaldo, to the grisly scene to help collect the slain bodies of their kin. The manner in which his fellow tribesmen were killed sickened him. The dark elves had viciously slashed at the centaurs' vulnerable legs, and in doing so, had crippled the horse-men. With their most powerful weapons useless as they crumbled beneath them, it was easy to see why his tribesmen had fallen, and fallen hard. 

            The bodies were returned to their families, and were burned on a funeral pyre, as was centaur custom. Fletcher had stood stoically at the ceremony at his father's side, comforting his younger sister Runya, as the tears ran down her cheeks. So sensitive his younger sister was, and Fletcher did everything he could to spare her delicate feelings. 

            Barely a week had passed, yet it seemed to the young centaur prince that it had been an eternity. He turned and looked back across the lands that had supported him and his tribe for years untold. He took a deep breath of the night air, easily distinguishing the differing smells of the various trees that comprised the forest that stood a short distance away. His gaze turned skyward, to the blinking stars. It was the centaurs' belief that the great chiefs of the past became the stars and were able to stand watch over their children, even after they themselves had died. _Where had the ancestors been that night?_ He shook his head in frustration. 

            A strangely familiar echo drifted across the open fields.  Fletcher smoothed back his unruly mane of raven colored hair, and strained his eyes to look for the apparent cause of the sound.  He cited the silvery bird and offered it his gloved hand, on to which she lit gracefully.  "Good evening Remmirath," the centaur said to his avian friend.  At the sound of her name, Remmirath shook her silvery feathers, and craned her neck to gaze at her master. Fletcher had been given the silver owl by his father to celebrate his coming of age ceremony, which had occurred four years ago at the beginning of spring. Remmirath was an excellent hunting companion for Fletcher, whose favorite quarry was the elusive snow cat. Using her superior vision at night, the silver owl was able to locate the primarily nocturnal predators, and call to Fletcher to alert him to their position. 

            Hunting the snow cats alone was dangerous work. Fletcher reached down and scratched another hunting companion behind his ears as he trotted quietly to his master's side. The wolfhound panted lightly and leaned into Fletcher's rubbing. "Good boy, Saul," he said to the immense dog. Saul's shoulder came up to the top of the centaur's leg, and the large dog was as nearly as long as his master. His massive head was at least a foot long, and the comical expression that was on his face (tongue lolling about and all) brought a rare grin to the serious centaur face.

            Saul was a gentle beast when not on the hunt. But while he was working, he was the most fierce one hundred and seventy five pounds snow cats had ever seen. Fletcher's tribe bred the massive dogs to be companions and to help protect them from the many dangers that could be found in the wilds. There was often the misconception that the centaur tribes had captured and tamed dire wolves to serve as their guardians. Fletcher grinned again as he thought that the tellers of these tales were mostly likely rogues and bandits who were intent upon robbing and pillaging the nomadic band. Many such creatures found that the large dogs could be very persuasive when their families were harmed. Yet the drow that slaughtered his kin had not been deterred by the large dogs; they killed the dogs as they stood guard over their fallen masters.

            Fletcher stamped his hooves impatiently. _What is taking him so long?_ The dark haired centaur wondered as his brow furrowed. He was waiting on the bluff for his friend, Hawthorne Pickett. The slightly older mercenary had sent him a message that he had found both of them a job. Together with Pickett, Fletcher had formed an adventuring party and advertised themselves in Silverymoon, hoping that a merchant would need escorts to the various cities in the region. There were few that knew the terrain of the Silver Marches better than Fletcher Ravenmane, but one of them was Hawthorne Pickett.

            Fletcher had met the man at the market in Silverymoon, several years back, and they immediately struck it off. Hawthorne was only a few years older than Fletcher, but when they were together, Fletcher seemed to be the most mature of the pair. The brown haired mercenary was fond of practical jokes, and general mischief, but he was a caring soul. Hawthorne visited his friend as often as he could spare between trips to the various cities in the realm. 

            Since they had become friends, Fletcher had learned much of the man's life story. Hawthorne was born near Rivermoot, and when he was younger he roamed far and wide across the lands of the Silver Marches. On one of his many treks he was attacked by a particularly vicious were-bear, and after killing the beast he became infected with lycanthropy himself. It is rather unusual that he is able to maintain himself relatively well even when he is in his bear form, because many of endemic lycanthropes of the Silver Marches are rather vicious to others than their ilk.

            One more than one occasion Hawthorne and Fletcher have seen their hide saved when the former transformed into his bear form. Nothing clears out a nest of goblins faster than a monstrous bear appearing in their midst and nothing kills them as effectively as the arrows fired by Fletcher (except perhaps the slashes that Hawthorne can inflict in his human form, with his enchanted sword and dagger).

            Fletcher smiled and patted Saul on his large head. _It's good to have friends like these,_ the centaur mused. He sighed and maintained his vigil, waiting for Hawthorne.

                                                            *********

            Under the same moon, not very far away Barachiel Elentari rubbed her eyes and stretched. She had been assigned first watch and her eyes could hardly stay open. Barachiel's contingent of Knights in Silver had ridden through much of the Silver Marches, and seen many strange things. Orcs and goblins had been on the move in large numbers in broad day light. The Knights had even encountered a group of Frost Giants down in one of the valleys where the weather was always warm. The blue brutes had scattered into the forest when the group of cavalry came upon them. Barachiel couldn't explain what seemed to be happening, but her elven senses detected that something more than a few errant tribes of orcs, goblins and lost Frost giants was occurring.

            She drew her cloak tightly around her as the wind picked up. Stifling a yawn, she looked up at the moon. It shone brightly, lighting the encampment. She could see the horses tethered just down the slope from where she sat, and the tents thrown in a circular fashion just a short distance from the horses. She rubbed her slightly pointed ears to warm them and tucked them under the cowl of her cloak. _Full moon,_ she sighed. _That means that Thalion's birthday is tomorrow. She balled her shapely hand into a fist and slammed it into the ground beside her. There was nothing that Barachiel hated worse than breaking her word. _I promised her that I would be home by tomorrow._ "Damn it!" she spat._

            She wiped the tears of frustration out of her gold specked green eyes. The younger moon elf had become like a sister to the half elven Knight, and nothing hurt Barachiel worse than the idea of causing hurt to her adopted sister. She turned her eyes back to the moon as a hauntingly familiar howl cut the silence of the night. Instead of reaching for her weapon, Barachiel left the bow and scimitar lying in the snow as she rapidly got to her feet. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled back to the wolf. It returned her call and Barachiel could hear it as it raced toward her in the snow.

            At the top of the ridge, Barachiel saw the dark furred wolf slide to a stop. "Thorn!" the half elf cried happily. The black wolf gave a toothy grin and raced down the slope to her half sister's side. Barachiel wrapped her arms around the wolf's thickly furred neck and gave it a fierce hug. She let go of her half sister's neck and stared into the wolf's gold flecked green eyes. _Hello little sister, Barachiel heard in her head. __I have missed you terribly._

            Barachiel grinned back at her half sister, the lythari. _I missed you too! Where have you been? she thought back at the elf that could shape shift into a wolf. Thorn turned back towards the ridge where she had come from. _I had a job to do, and I found some friends that you should meet._ Barachiel followed her half sister's gaze and gasped at what she saw._

            At the top of the ridge there stood two other wolves. The smallest of the pair had a pelt that shimmered in the moonlight, as if it were made of silver. Its shapely amber eyes returned Barachiel's gaze and it inclined its head to nod at her. _That is Liriel Baenre, princess of the first house of Menzoberranzan, and a powerful wizard. She joined me after her human love died. The other is Sharlarra, Thorn said. Sharlarra's red-gold pelt glistened as she winked at the half elf. _Watch your purse around her; she is lighter fingered than a halfling._ Barachiel smiled at her half sister's last thought._

            _We have been too long away from home, Thorn continued._ I brought them back with me because I feel something is wrong here. I can't put my finger on it, but we will stay until we find the root of the problem._ Barachiel nodded her agreement and told her sister what she had learned in her days of patrol. She also told the lythari of her adopted sister Thalion, and her desire to send her a message wishing her a happy birthday, to which the Moon Hunter listened with great interest. _I should like to meet the young one someday, as I am certain my companions would. Yet, we must leave now, but we will see more of you soon; I swear by our mother. We will get your message to her, fear not._ Barachiel nodded and gave her sister one last hug. _Good hunting!_ she wished for her sister and her new companions._

            She waved as the three wolves turned and disappeared over the ridge. Barachiel blinked in surprise as she saw a pale horse follow the three wolves over the ridge. _By the gods! That was a teu-kelytha! Barachiel had not seen one of the legendary moon horses of Evermeet since she had been a child; and it brought a great smile to her face. Three haunting howls echoed down to her as she resumed her watch and she returned the call. Later, the halfling, Gaya, relieved her of the watch, and Barachiel quickly fell into a deep slumber, with filled with happy dreams of her childhood._

                                                            **********

            Hawthorne Pickett quietly picked his way through the underbrush as he made his way to the centaur encampment. He needed to get to Fletcher as soon as possible so that they could set out quickly. He had found them employment working for Lady Alustriel herself. The sandy-haired mercenary smiled broadly; most companies had to work for many years to even gain the Silver Lady's attention. From what he had been told, Fletcher and himself would be serving as guards for an expedition that she was sponsoring.

            Hawthorne slid to a stop as a pack of wolves passed close to his right. He squinted in the darkness, watching the hunters as the passed less than a stone's throw away from him. _Good evening, __Hawthorne__. The mercenary smiled and howled back at the passing pack. _It's good that you're home Thorn,_ he thought, _we missed you._ _Watch yourself, _the lythari replied,_ you don't know what's out here tonight. _He sheathed his enchanted sword and continued in the direction of the centaur camp. _Wait a moment; I need you to deliver a message to Lady Alustriel for me_. The sandy-haired mercenary stopped and turned back to the wolves. __Tell her that Thorn is home, and that she needs to let Thalion know that Barachiel will be home soon and wishes her a happy birthday. "No problem," he dug in his pouch and pulled out a silver amulet that resembled a crescent moon. _

            "Most esteemed Lady Alustriel," he spoke into it, "Thorn has returned home. Her half sister wishes Thalion a happy birthday, and wants her to know that she will be home soon." The mercenary stood quickly for a moment, and within a few seconds, the silver amulet hummed. "Thank you for the message Hawthorne," it spoke with Lady Alustriel's voice. "I will see you and your associate tomorrow, correct?" The mercenary nodded, "Yes ma'am." "Ah, good; I will see you tomorrow. Have a pleasant night." "And you Lady." 

            Hawthorne placed the silver moon amulet back in his pack and waved as Thorn and her pack moved off into the night. He found his friend waiting for him at the arranged meeting spot, and after detailing the plan; they entered the camp and made arrangements to leave at first light.

            The sun was bright as they headed for Silverymoon the next day. Their trip to the Jewel of the North was rather uneventful except that Barachiel's contingent of Knights in Silver met up with them on the road. The two mercenaries traveled with the Knights into the city and up to the High Palace. Barachiel agreed to accompany the two through the palace to report to Lady Alustriel.  The strange procession drew stares from many that they passed in the halls. "You know Fletcher," Barachiel remarked playfully, "We are really going to have to do something about you. People are gawking like I'm leading a drow through the palace." Fletcher and Hawthorne chuckled, "You'll have to take that up with my father, Knight Barachiel. I am truly sorry." The dark haired centaur winked at their guide, who laughed in return. 

            As they neared Alustriel's audience chamber, Barachiel stopped as a familiar voice echoed down the hall to her. "Big sister! Wait!" Barachiel's smile grew tenfold, and she turned just in time to catch Thalion as she slammed into her, wrapping her in a tight hug. They laughed as they lay in a pile on the floor. "See, I told you I'd be home for your birthday," she said to her younger counter part. "Welcome home Barachiel," said D'Aron as he offered her his hand to help her back to her feet, which she gladly took. The Knight introduced D'Aron and Thalion to Fletcher and Hawthorne and explained why she had lead them through the palace. 

            Their conversation was interrupted when the audience chamber's doors flew open and Lady Alustriel's magically amplified voice drifted out. "I need the following individuals to report to the audience chamber immediately: Barachiel Elentari and Gaya Banazir of the Knights in Silver, D'Aron d'lil D'Issan of the Palace Guard, Thalion Ellesar the ranger, the sorceress Hélène Volhard, the esteemed Alkar Hammerhand, and the members of the Company of the Keep: Fletcher Ravenmane and Hawthorne Pickett." The group in the hall paled as their names were announced. Barachiel regained her composure the quickest and smoothed her cloak, "We might as well get in there and get this over with." The others had to agree. Thalion clasped D'Aron's hand as she followed her adopted sister into the audience chamber.

                                                            *********

            Across the palace grounds, Gaya Banazir heard her name announced and cringed. _Now what have I done? She thought as she quickly put away her gear from the recent trek into the Silver Marches. __Oh well, I'd better hurry. She walked quickly from the barracks and down a narrow avenue, heading in the direction of the audience chamber._

            On her way, she passed Alkar working in his makeshift forge. His hammer clanged, and the piece of metal he was working on hissed as he dropped it into a bucket of water. "Come on Alkar, we had better hurry!" The silver-haired dwarf nodded and removed his heavy apron. "Wait a minute little miss; you can help me carry these things for Thalion." Gaya turned around and way promptly loaded up with packages wrapped in heavy paper. "Geez Alkar," the red-haired halfling remarked as she nearly dropped the parcels, "What did you give her this year? Rocks?" The smith snorted, "Here let me carry them. I don't want them dinged up before she gets to use them." "Come on Alkar, tell me!" Gaya pleaded as they crossed the main plaza and entered the Palace. "You'll just have to wait and see," the dwarf replied with a smirk. The halfling sighed, but let the subject drop. She had been in too many arguments with Alkar Hammerhand to even think for a minute that the stubborn dwarf would give in, and tell her his secrets. 

                                                            **********

            "Take your seats everyone." All present in the audience chamber did as they were told, quickly finding seats and turning their eyes to their hostess. The Lady of Silverymoon wore a simple white dress with ruffled sleeves and a dark grey cloak. Holding her unicorn headed staff, the older woman cut a most distinguished figure. _She almost rivals a Matron in Menzoberranzan,_ mused Drizzt as he sat next to Cattie-Brie.

            "We are here today to discuss who will be participating in the scouting expeditions that have been deemed necessary by the confederation of the Silver Marches." All heads nodded as the silver haired Alustriel spoke. "I am glad to see that almost everyone had made it. We must inform the others, who will arrive later, what we have decided." _Others?_ D'Aron signed to Drizzt. _I know not._ The elder drow responded.


End file.
